19

      Nothing ever goes according to plan with families. The following morning, Connie, who had got Abi and Jem out of the door and off to work, was looking forward to her day out, alone, with her husband. But her plan was to be thwarted.

      Once she’d got the kids off she called Greg down for breakfast and spread a coastal map over the kitchen table. They were calculating how long it would take them to drive to Polperro and Fowey when Francis walked in, rubbing his hands together and saying, ‘What a great idea this is. Just the four of us out for the day. Like old times, eh? So, where are we going?’

      Greg smiled, ‘Nice try, old man. Very funny. This is a day out for—’

      But Francis wasn’t listening. Pru had swept in, in a new Diane von Fürstenberg blue multi-print chiffon dress which, even Greg had to admit, made her look pretty good. He gave her an appreciative wolf whistle and got a punch on the arm from Connie.

      ‘Thank you, Greg,’ Pru said condescendingly while glaring at Connie. ‘I felt the need to make an effort after looking like a charlady for days on end.’ She glanced at Connie’s rolled-up jeans, Trevay T-shirt and fleece wrapped around her shoulders. ‘I see you’ve gone for comfort over style, Connie. Good for you.’ Connie glowered. Ignoring her, Pru continued, ‘Are we ready for our magical mystery tour? Let’s get going. Greg, you can sit in the front and navigate. I’ll drive.’

      Connie, looking horrified, gave Greg a poke. ‘Tell Pru what we have planned.’

      ‘Ah, well,’ said Greg. ‘You see, Connie and I were hoping to head to Polperro and have lunch in a little place that’s rather special to us.’

      ‘That’s a marvellous idea,’ said Pru. ‘Francis and I haven’t been to Polperro for years. Let’s go.’ And she was out in the hall collecting her keys and bag before they could stop her.

      *

      Dorothy twitched her net curtains. ‘They’ve gone. Pru’s driving. She always reminds me of Cruella De Vil when she gets behind the wheel.’

      Henry laughed. ‘They deserve a day out. Weather’s looking fantastic for the next few days. I hope it holds for Abi’s party.’

      ‘Me too. I’m amazed she’s found herself a job. And Jem too.’

      Henry nodded. ‘Good for them, I say. Character building. Children have it all handed to them on a plate these days. They’ll know the value of a five-pound note after this summer.’

      Dorothy moved away from the window and sat opposite Henry in a matching armchair. ‘This is a different world to the one we grew up in. The grandchildren think we had dinosaurs for pets.’

      ‘Oh, I’m old-fashioned, I know. But those values still hold good.’

      ‘Not so old-fashioned …’ She hesitated. ‘After all, isn’t making an honest woman of me one of those values?’

      Henry looked uncomfortable, the pattern on the carpet suddenly catching his interest. ‘Don’t start that again. Besides, it’s a bit late in the day now, old girl.’

      ‘Maybe.’ Dorothy twisted the ring on the third finger of her left hand. ‘I would have liked to arrive at the pearly gates with everything settled, though.’

      ‘Don’t you worry, St Peter will have you down as just that in his ledger.’

      ‘Mmm.’

      They both sat and looked at each other.

      ‘I’m only glad neither of us will be around when the girls find out,’ said Dorothy.

      ‘They’re mature women. They’ll take it in their stride.’

      The doorbell gave a cheerful ding-dong. ‘Now who the hell is that?’ sighed Henry.

      Dorothy stood up. ‘I’ll get it.’

      Henry listened. He could hear a woman’s voice and Dorothy saying, ‘Come in, come in. I’m about to make coffee. Henry’s in the front room. Go on in and say hello.’

      Henry moved his eyes to the door as Belinda poked her head in. He liked Belinda. Fun, uncomplicated and rather sexy. He got to his feet. ‘Hello, my dear. Please, take a seat.’

      ‘Hello, Mr Carew. I’ve just popped in to see if you or Mrs Carew want anything from the shops. Emily and I are going up a bit later.’ Emily came into the room. A tall and pretty but self-conscious teenager. ‘Hello, Mr Carew,’ she said in a quiet voice.

      ‘Hello, Emily. No need to be so formal. Everyone calls me Henry or Poppa. Which do you prefer?’

      ‘How nice,’ said Belinda. ‘May we call you Poppa?’ She caught Dorothy’s eye as the older woman elbowed her way through the door bearing a tray of coffee and shortbread. ‘Emily never knew her grandfathers.’

      ‘I’d be honoured.’ Henry smiled at Emily, who was taking a biscuit from the plate offered by Dorothy.

      ‘And you can call me Dorothy or Granny.’

      ‘Isn’t that lovely, Em?’ Belinda beamed at Emily, who was looking embarrassed.

      ‘Yes. Thank you.’

      ‘It’s an honour, young lady. Tell me, have you ever played Lawyer, Lawyer?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Oh, Henry, don’t be a bore. Emily doesn’t want to play board games, do you, dear?’

      Emily, embarrassed, murmured, ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Of course you want to play,’ said Belinda. She looked at Henry, ‘You invented it, didn’t you?’

      Henry laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘As a matter of fact, I did. Who told you?’

      ‘Francis did, ages ago. From what he said, you saved the family business from going under.’

      ‘Something like that,’ said Henry, getting to his feet. ‘So, Emily, do you fancy a game? I’ll teach you how to beat anyone.’

      ‘OK,’ said Emily, not exactly brimming with enthusiasm.

      Henry got up and went to the conservatory, Emily trailing after him. ‘Come along then.’

      Once the doors were safely closed, Dorothy smiled and said to Belinda, ‘They’ll be gone for at least an hour.’ She plumped up the cushion behind her back and settled down. ‘So, Belinda, tell me all about yourself.’

      Belinda stirred a large spoonful of sugar into her coffee. ‘There’s not much to tell. Forty-something single mum. Struggling a bit to make ends meet. My cup’s always half-full, though – I try to focus on the positive.’

      ‘Quite so.’ Dorothy watched as Belinda helped herself to a biscuit. ‘What happened to Emily’s father?’

      ‘Oh, Brett’s still around. We’re good friends, as a matter of fact. But when he met Steve, he met the man of his dreams.’

      It took a superhuman effort for Dorothy to prevent her carefully drawn eyebrows from going into orbit. ‘Steve?’